-A twisted Fate?- An Art The clown x Fem!Reader

Caught in a Trap

You sprinted down the hallway, your feet barely touching the ground as panic surged through your veins. The walls seemed to close in on you, every shadow twisting into something sinister as Art’s manic horn honks echoed behind you. The terror was suffocating, wrapping around your throat like a noose, but you forced yourself to keep moving.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You knew that if you did, you’d see him, his blood smeared grin, his dark eyes gleaming with that twisted, cruel joy. You knew he was right behind you, and the sound of his footsteps, light and playful, sent your heart into overdrive.

The hallway stretched out before you, endless, as if the house had transformed into a maze designed to trap you. Your chest burned, every breath painful, but you pushed through the fear and exhaustion. You had to escape. You had to find a way out.

Your mind raced, desperately searching for a plan. The front door was out of the question Art would be there in seconds. The windows? No, too risky. You needed something, anything, to give you even a sliver of a chance.

You turned sharply into the kitchen, your hands fumbling with the drawers, grabbing at anything that might help, a knife, something sharp, something to fight him off. But your hands were shaking too badly, your vision blurred by tears and panic. The knife you pulled from the drawer felt heavy in your grip, but you knew it wouldn’t be enough.

You heard his footsteps slow behind you, and that horn honk was hhis way of letting you know he wasn’t in a rush. He didn’t need to be. This was all part of the game for him, the final act of his twisted performance.

And then, the sound stopped.

Silence.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your grip tightening on the knife as you turned, eyes scanning the doorway. He wasn’t there. The kitchen was empty, the shadows still and silent. For a moment, you dared to hope, maybe you’d lost him. Maybe you had more time than you thought.

But deep down, you knew better.

The sound of shuffling from the hallway snapped your attention back. Your breath hitched, your pulse racing as you glanced around the room for another exit. There was no time to think, no time to plan. You just had to move.

Without a second thought, you dashed for the back door, throwing it open and bursting into the cool night air. The wind whipped at your face, the cold biting through your skin as you stumbled across the backyard, the shadows of the trees looming large and threatening around you. The sound of leaves crunching beneath your feet mixed with the frantic beating of your heart.

You didn’t know where you were going. The world outside felt just as dangerous as the one you’d left behind, but at least here, in the open air, you could breathe. You could run. The faint hope of escape clung to you, fragile and fleeting, but it was enough to keep your legs moving.

Then, you heard him.

The sound of a soft, mocking clap.

You froze.

It came from somewhere ahead, hidden among the dark trees. The shadows seemed to shift and twist, and as your eyes adjusted, you saw him.. Art. He was standing at the edge of the yard, illuminated only by the faint moonlight, his head tilted in that unnerving way he always did, clapping slowly as if congratulating you on your efforts.

You took a step back, your body trembling, the knife slipping from your fingers and landing in the dirt with a dull thud.

He didn’t need to chase you anymore. He had cornered you without lifting a finger.

Panic swelled in your chest as you turned to run in the opposite direction, but before you could take a single step, something grabbed your ankle. You fell hard, your body hitting the ground with a sickening thud. The pain shot through you, momentarily blinding you as you struggled to catch your breath.

Your eyes darted down in horror, and that’s when you saw it- a trap. A chain wrapped around your ankle, the rusted metal biting into your skin. It had been hidden beneath the leaves, waiting for you to stumble right into it.

You clawed at the ground, desperate to free yourself, but it was no use. The chain was too tight, the trap too strong. You could hear the faint, metallic clinks as you thrashed against it, your panic growing with each failed attempt to break free.

Art’s footsteps approached, slow and deliberate, every step sending another jolt of terror through you. You glanced up, your breath hitching in your throat as you saw him moving toward you, his eyes gleaming with that same malicious joy, his knife now gleaming in the moonlight.

“No, no, no…” The words tumbled from your lips in a frantic whisper as you struggled against the chain, your hands bleeding from trying to pull it loose. But it was no use. You were trapped.

Art crouched down in front of you, his face only inches away from yours now. You could see the dried blood on his hands, his grotesque clown makeup smeared from where you had hit him with the vase. His wide, eerie grin stretched across his face as he tilted his head, studying you with those cold, unblinking eyes.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, tears streaming down your face. “Why… why won’t you just kill me?” you choked out, your voice breaking. You were too tired to fight, too tired to run. It was over. There was nothing left.

Art’s grin only widened in response. He reached out with one gloved hand, his fingers brushing a tear from your cheek in a grotesque parody of tenderness. His touch was cold, unnervingly gentle, and it sent a shiver of revulsion down your spine.

He raised his other hand, the blade of the knife glinting dangerously as he held it just above your throat, the sharp edge barely grazing your skin. For a moment, you thought this was it—that he was finally going to end it.

But then he stopped.

The blade hovered in the air, and he hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the terror in your face.

He was enjoying this. The fear, the desperation. He didn’t want it to end quickly. He wanted to drag it out, to savor every moment of your suffering.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t going to kill you.. Not until he’d had his fill of the game.

With a sickening smile, Art pulled the knife away, his breathy giggle filling the air as he stood up, looming over you like a shadow.

You tried to scramble backward, but the chain held you in place, your body trembling with fear and exhaustion. There was no escape. No more running.

He had won.

Art stood there for a moment longer, watching you struggle, before slowly turning and walking away into the darkness, leaving you chained and helpless, knowing full well that you couldn’t go anywhere.

And as you lay there, shivering in the cold night air, you realized with dawning horror that this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.